Have Someone to Fly With
by emily.down
Summary: Well, in a nutshell, Hermione and Oliver start off on the wrong foot. Throughout school, he tries to convince himself she's a narrow-minded bookworm. It doesn't work that well. Um, read if you might like.
1. Chapter 1

_Last year I wanted to write a story about Hermione and Oliver but did not have enough time (or inspiration) for it. Anyway, I now I sort of do, so here is my try. By the way, I took some liberties with canon for this. So, Oliver is just two years older than Hermione so he's Fred and George's mate (same year). Sorry I had to do this, but it will help later on. So, have fun reading!_

Prologue

Oliver knew about Hermione Granger. Or at least he had heard about her from the Weasley twins. Apparently she was this huge bookworm with no personality that liked to sleep in the library.

She was the oddest First Year Gryffindor this year. Fred and George liked to keep a record of these things.

'She's quite boring. Oh and she hates Quidditch, to top it off.'

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. He still couldn't understand how anyone could hate Quidditch. It was such a liberating sport. It was such a free-spirited experience. Everything went smoothly in Quidditch. It was a thrilling flight of beauty.

People who detested this game and labeled it as stupid were simply too blind to see.

And this Hermione Granger was no different.

He thought he would never hear of her again, that she would just fade into anonymity. He did not expect to encounter her many times. Not in his crowd, not in his life.

And certainly not on the Quidditch field.

But that year, during the first Quidditch match of the year, she set Professor Snape's robes on fire.

Without any warning, that puny, bushy-haired little girl had gone up and burnt a professor's robes.

The flames that swallowed the dark robes rose high into the air. In those crucial moments, Oliver was distracted by the golden tongues reaching towards the sky and he failed to defend the circles three times in a row.

That had never happened to him before. Three times in a row, never.

It was all because of that girl that he had never talked to.

The Gryffindors still managed to win the game thanks to newcomer Harry Potter's skills as a Seeker. He caught the Snitch just in time for his team to win.

Still, Oliver couldn't possibly be pleased or happy. Even though a Quidditch team was comprised of many people, when he played a Keeper, he felt as if he was the only one on that entire field and that he mattered so much more.

And his failing to keep his promise to the team hurt him in a way he had never known was possible. Because for him Quidditch was art and he had failed as an artist for the first time. Perfection was his obsession. Now, his perfect score was ruined.

Hermione Granger supposedly hated Quidditch.

From that moment on, he started disliking Hermione Granger. A lot.

* * *

_I'd appreciate some reviews or opinions, just to see if I'm getting this right. You can also give suggestions. So, review away!  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_So, this is the second chapter of this tiny story:) I made some changes again and I hope no one will be put off by them, but it really helps the story. Changes: Hermione has to stay in the Infirmary after the Troll attack at Halloween and the spell she is supposed to teach Harry in Third Year if I recall well, she uses in her First Year. You'll see what I mean. _

_On another note, thank you for the nice reviews. I hope you will like it! Please leave a comment on your thoughts!_

_P.S. The titles for each chapter show Oliver's reaction/feelings to Hermione. So each title will show an evolution. _

_

* * *

1: Oliver still dislikes Hermione  
_

His dislike for Hermione Granger wavered slightly when he found out she had been attacked by a Troll during the chaotic Halloween night. Even if she was not a very nice girl, no one deserved to be punished this way.

The Troll story circulated the school for a month or so. Hermione made sure everyone knew that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had saved her. She did not mention why she had been crying that night. It was all forgotten. Now, they were very good friends.

She had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days. Harry, the Quidditch team's new Seeker, refused to come to practice in order to see his friend in the Infirmary Wing. All this despite the fact that the game would take place in a week.

Oliver felt frustrated that even now Hermione Granger was interfering with his field. It was not fair.

He knew he was acting like a child. After all, she had been in danger. Whenever his team mates were injured he was always by their side. It was natural.

When Harry finally showed up for practice, they did not have enough time to work some strategies with him. Oliver felt cheated.

Quidditch was no one's priority, it was no one's passion, but his.

On the day of the new game it snowed. Large white heaps gathered around the castle walls. The air was filled with frozen flakes. The cold currents of the winter wind made his Quidditch uniform slightly unbearable.

Before the game, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger came to wish Harry good luck. They were sitting in the changing room, talking in a soft whisper. Harry was nodding his head, his face showing full concern.

Hermione was explaining something to him. She was holding a piece of parchment.

Oliver, who was standing some feet away, knew they were not just talking about Quidditch. The three seemed immersed in their own problems. Oliver always told Harry to empty his mind before each game. He wasn't doing that now.

Hermione suddenly mentioned the weather conditions.

'Is it safe to play when it's snowing?' she asked worried.

'It's no problem. We wear goggles and winter equipment,' Oliver interrupted abrupty.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, before she smiled meekly and nodded her head.

'That sounds alright. I was just wondering...well, the snowflakes could cover the goggles. I mean it would decrease the visibility. You could cast a spell on them to keep them constantly dry.'

'That would be very helpful, Hermione,' Harry mentioned.

Hermione did not need more encouragement. She took Harry's goggles and muttered a quick spell on them.

'You should have no problem with them now. I learnt the spell in a book about Weather and Magic.'

'Thanks a lot, you always know just what to do,' Harry said smiling.

Oliver was standing there, trying very hard not to glare at her. He was folding his clothes and unfolding them, in an attempt to calm down.

He had never thought of this before. He had never heard of that spell either.

His best subject was not Charms, admittedly, but he thought that a Third Year would know a bit more than a nosy First Year.

He clenched his fingers over his wand, in an attempt to perform the same spell on his own goggles.

'Oi, Oliver, Hermione could help you with your goggles too,' Ron chimed in.

Oliver could have cursed him right there and then.

'Eh, no thanks, I can handle it,' he muttered.

The young girl pulled some of her bushy strands behind her ears and approached him shyly.

'Here, give me those, I will show you.'

At first he was a bit resentful, but seeing as she was not going away soon he handed her the goggles.

She stood in front of him and cast the spell, showing him how it is done.

Oliver felt his cheeks burning. She smelt like snow, because large snowflakes were caught in her thick hair.

She barely reached his chin.

When she handed his goggles back, he wrinkled his nose slightly.

'Thanks,' he mumbled annoyed and smiled. He immediately turned from her and left the changing room.

Oliver put on his goggles and flew up into the air.

Some of the students were already seated in the bleachers, but the opposing team hadn't arrived yet, so he could circle the field one more time.

Much to his chagrin, he discovered her spell worked well. His vision had improved greatly.

He felt defeated and relieved at the same time. Perhaps this would be a good game.

If they won, he would have to give her credit for the victory.

She was not even on the team.

Oliver knew he would only dislike her more if they won.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you **IReadFromTheLastPage** for the lovely reviews, I appreciate the kind words and I'm really happy you like it so much :) I had almost forgotten about this story for some time because I was busy writing for the other ones, so thanks for reminding me I should update and thank you for reading :)_

_I'll try to update faster this time. Thanks to everyone for reviewing and reading :)_

* * *

_2: Oliver is annoyed with Hermione_

Spring had come to Hogwarts. The gardens were in full bloom and the Quidditch field was now emerald green. The flights were much more pleasant. The breeze was no longer autumnal and it was a blessing for his tired eyes. The sun rays warmed his back tenderly. He could discard the winter robe in a dark corner of the changing room.

With the advent of a new season came the excitement of the last game of the year.

He was in silent fervour, walking idly through the castle grounds without rest.

One afternoon, Hagrid called him to his hut to show him something.

He and Hagrid had been good friends for a while now and the half-giant had always promised to show him any new creature he found in the Forest. Oliver was enchanted with the Forest. Most students found it a gruesome, dreary, deadly place, but he was not among them. He thought it was one of the most beautiful forests in the world.

And so, he was always very excited when Hagrid had something special for him.

He came one early evening when the sun had not yet set and he knocked at the door.

'Come in, Oliver, come in!' the giant's voice boomed happily.

When he entered the small hut, he stumbled upon a pair of three familiar students.

Ron Weasley, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were sitting around a brewing fire, staring at a large, grey egg which was placed in a huge iron basket, above the flames.

'Oliver, ye know these three meddlin' children, don't ye?'

He stared at them rather ruefully.

'Of course he does, we play on the same team,' Harry said.

Ron and Hermione simply nodded at him, but the latter had a very concerned expression on her face.

'Hagrid, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but is Oliver to be trusted? This is, after all, potentially dangerous and illegal,' she began in a wavering voice.

He glared at the bushy-haired girl who knew nothing about him or about his friendship with Hagrid, and yet felt confident enough to presume he was not to be trusted.

'I'll have you know I've known Hagrid far longer than you have and I am his good friend,' he retorted.

Hermione blinked at him as if she had not seen him there yet.

'I_'_m sorry, but we had no way of knowing that, seeing as Hagrid did not tell us anything about you, so we had every right to be concerned,' she replied in all seriousness.

Oliver wondered how it was possible that a First Year had the audacity to speak like a professor. McGonagall herself would not sound so appallingly correct.

'Well, 'suppose I forgot to tell ye, but Oliver's a very good lad, I've known him since he was your age, ye can put yer faith in him, he won't tell a soul,' Hagrid told her appealingly.

'But Hagrid, you mustn't tell anyone else,' Hermione protested.

'Tell what exactly?' Oliver asked upset.

'Don't you see? That's a dragon egg,' she told him, pointing at the egg.

Oliver sat down next to her and touched the shell briefly, almost in awe. He couldn't believe his eyes. He recoiled instantly when he felt something moving inside.

'A dragon's egg? Hagrid, are you mad?' Oliver asked astounded.

'Eh? 'ermione here said the same. Why would I be mad?' the half-giant asked in a loud, irritable voice.

'Because it breaks over fifty school rules!' they both exclaimed at the same time.

Oliver stared at her in surprise.

'_Hogwarts, A History_,' she explained waving her hand.

'Yeah, me too,' he said sheepishly.

'Hagrid, if someone finds out you brought an illegal dragon egg on castle grounds you could go to Azkaban!' Hermione continued frantically.

'Never mind that,' Harry interrupted, 'who even sold you such a thing? I don't suppose they come around easily.'

'No, they don't,' Oliver answered for him. 'Hagrid, you bought it off someone? That's even worse. Whoever that person is, he can't be anything but a smuggler.'

'I agree with Oliver,' Hermione replied quickly. 'It's a foul deal.'

'Well, he didn't look all that bad to me, the poor chap was hidin' behind a cloak. Said he had a skin problem. Sounded awfully modest,' Hagrid said, rubbing his chin pensively.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

'Hagrid, you are too gullible,' she complained.

'Well, what are you going to do with it now?' Ron asked.

'I'm goin' to wait for it to hatch. Then I'll take him in the Forest,' he replied simply.

'Absolutely not...' Hermione began, but Oliver interrupted her.

'I'll take it, Hagrid. My father can find a home for him. He works in the Department for The Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.'

'Well, as far as _I_ know, the Department would put the poor creature to death,' Hermione replied.

'How would you know...' Oliver began upset.

'I happened to read the Ministry's current administrating policies,' she said quickly, brushing over his argument like it was nothing. 'Either way, it would be better if the egg was given to Ron's brother, Charlie. He is a dragon tamer in Romania.'

Ron nodded his head proudly. 'Best job in the world, right there. He can take care of it, Hagrid.'

'Even if you've read all the Ministry policies, you don't know _every_ case. My father would do a better job with it and he'd do it _legally_,' Oliver protested.

'Charlie is a _legal_ tamer,' Hermione countered.

'Even so, giving the egg to Ron is too dangerous,' he said, glancing at the boy in suspicion.

He knew Ron Weasley was very irresponsible and forgetful. He wasn't about to give him such a precious load.

'Yes, but _his_ _brother_ knows everything there is to know about dragons. Do _you_ know everything there is to know?' Hermione asked in what he thought was a condescending voice.

Oliver groaned and bit back a nasty comment. He was getting very annoyed with her.

'I'm only saying that Ron isn't responsible enough to take the egg...'

'_I_ will help him take care of it until we can give it to Charlie and he will come right away, won't he, Ron?' Hermione asked in a high-pitched voice.

'Of course! I mean he'd be too happy to take it...' Ron mumbled, confused by the sudden argument between his friend and Oliver.

'So there,' Hermione concluded triumphantly. 'It's settled then.'

'Wait a minute...' Oliver insisted.

'No one's takin' the egg yet,' Hagrid said, covering their voices. 'He'll stay here with me for a while, alright?'

Oliver and Hermione nodded their heads reluctantly, giving each other sideway glances.

'It is safest here, until Ron's brother can pick it up,' Harry agreed.

'Ain't it a beauty?' Hagrid asked, sighing fondly. 'Just look a 'it.'

The flames were giving the shell a translucent colour and the egg shook from time to time, as if the creature inside was trembling.

Hermione patted the surface and smiled despite herself.

'He is a beautiful egg,' she admitted. 'I think he's going to be a handsome dragon too.'

'He's a Norwegian Ridgeback, course he'll be,' Hagrid answered proudly.

'Norwegian Ridgeback? Those are extremely rare. And they have poisonous fangs too,' Oliver said.

'Poisonous? That doesn't sound alright, you'd better take care with it, Hagrid,' Hermione said, her fingers tracing the shell. 'I'd better search for an antidote, in case you accidentally get bitten.'

'I think Hagrid can avoid that on his own,' Oliver muttered, caressing the egg.

'I was only being polite,' she replied, her eyebrows rising in the air like two sharp arrows.

Their fingers touched briefly before he quickly pulled away.

'Aren't ye glad I called ye Oliver?' Hagrid asked, winking.

Oliver nodded his head.

He couldn't help feel a bit cheated, though. These three children had already been let into Hagrid's hut and shown a dragon egg, while he had had to wait three years for that to happen.

The feeling of unfairness was punctuated by this young girl's excessive knowledge in just about everything. He wondered if there was something she had _not_ heard of. It was alarming for an eleven year old to be so mature and highly annoying.

However, when they all left Hagrid's hut Hermione asked him for his help and he agreed.

'I suppose we will need help when Charlie comes to take the egg. Would you mind giving us a hand? Provided you don't tell anyone?'

'Why would I tell anyone if I am helping you?' he asked, offended.

She smiled proudly.

'I knew we could count on you. Thank you, Oliver.'

He could not believe she had turned a simple question into a proof of his submission to her plan. She was incredibly oblivious to his disapproval of her.

But Oliver knew better than to get upset. He was just very annoyed.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hi, everyone, new chapter again, because I got inspired after watching some adorable scenes from Philosopher's Stone. :)_

_I want to thank all of you for reading and reviewing, very kind of you. Also, many thanks to **IReadFromTheLastPage** for the wonderful review and for the encouragement :)_

_Hope you like this one too. A bit longer but still enjoyable, I think :)_

* * *

_4: Hermione is a pain to Oliver_

After two weeks of uneventful classes and Quidditch practice, Oliver Wood thought the three mischievous First Years had forgotten all about him and the dragon egg. He was beginning to wonder whether they had already disposed of the egg without him. He didn't think Hagrid would choose to hide it from him, but he knew Hermione Granger was capable of doing that. Then again, she had been the one to ask for his help, so maybe he was wrong. He couldn't be sure.

It was beginning to distract him from other things.

One afternoon, though, while he was practicing some new moves on the Quidditch field, he was interrupted by the girl who embodied most of his current irritations.

Hermione Granger had arrived on the field and was waving her arms in agitation at him. She was shouting something, but he couldn't hear her, because he was up in the air.

He only noticed her incredibly huge, frizzy, wild hair. Even from above, it was hard to miss.

There was a joke going around school how when she walked into a classroom, her hair would come in first, then her later. Some meaner students had also compared her bushy tame to Dumbledore's white beard.

When he finally landed, he could hear her unwelcome shrills.

'Honestly, is this what you do _every_ day?' she asked, incredulous.

'What do you mean?' he asked, getting down.

'Quidditch practice. Whenever I see you, you're always going to or coming from practice.'

'Maybe I just want to fly. Not practice,' he shot back. 'That's what I enjoy the most you know.'

Hermione pursed her lips and nodded her head awkwardly.

'Fine then. That's a nice hobby. Flying must be great. But I find it a bit unpleasant, so don't hold it against me if I don't agree,' she confessed.

'I honestly don't care,' he replied cheekily, grinning. 'As long as _I_ enjoy it.'

Hermione frowned. He was being deliberately impolite. She didn't like it one bit.

'Right, well, since you _don't_ care, I suppose I won't tell you about the egg.'

'Now hold on. That's unfair. Just because I don't fuss over what you say is no reason to be like this.'

Hermione sighed in that 'oh, why do I bother?' sort of way and turned around.

'Tonight at nine, be outside the Gryffindor common room. Ron's brother will come at ten. We have to get the egg to the owlry.'

Oliver nodded his head firmly.

'I'll be there.'

'Very well then. I'll leave you to your…flying,' she said and turned on her heels quickly.

Oliver watched her climb the steep hill towards the castle.

He knew she didn't have many friends. In fact, he was sure Potter and Weasley were her only actual friends. She was disliked by many and considered a little know-it-all by just about everyone. And yet she still had this overbearing confidence and sternness about her that silenced everyone.

Not him, though. He could see right through her insecurities. Or at least he thought he did.

'Just because you're no good at flying doesn't mean you have to hate it,' he muttered to himself.

'But to a person for which perfection is everything, that must be hard blow,' he added, smiling secretly.

* * *

At nine sharp in the evening he was pacing up and down in front of the Fat Lady's portrait while she was telling him about how a girl from another portrait had run away the previous night.

'She was Irish, I think. She told everyone that she was looking for her baby. She had left him in a portrait, but she didn't know which. And now she's gone mad looking for him. And no one can find her. Imagine that!'

'She's probably here somewhere…' he said lackadaisically.

'I doubt it! The way she ran about! Flirting with everyone and making silly jokes! I'm sure the Austrian officer who she was supposedly engaged to, finally decided to punish her.'

Oliver sighed. He was not in the mood for the Fat Lady's ramblings.

'He told the Elderly Barb in the Third Floor tapestry that he though the baby wasn't even hers, that it was just her pretext to go about making sweet eyes at everyone! Imagine!'

'Yes, shocking,' he drawled.

'Indeed! What's more shocking is that people around here whisper he cut off her head!'

Oliver was about to say that portraits never whispered, when someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

He turned around. No one in sight.

He was tapped again, but still, the corridor was empty.

'Who's there?' he asked bewildered.

He heard soft footsteps walking towards the stairway. He followed them, wand in his hand, unsure of what was happening. When he turned the corner, he was pulled behind a heavy statue of a long-bearded witch.

Suddenly, before his eyes, the three Gryffindors revealed themselves out of thin air!

He stared at them in utter bafflement.

'What is the meaning of this? How did you suddenly appear?'

'I've got this,' Ron Weasley stepped up, silencing Hermione who was about to speak up.

'See, Oliver, we've got ourselves an Invisibility Cloak. It's a cloak you put on that makes you invisible. The name is quite explanatory, actually. Harry got it for Christmas.'

Harry handed him the Cloak.

Oliver took it in awe. He turned it on each side several times, feeling slightly overwhelmed. He wondered at the strange powers of a simple item of clothing.

'Amazing…' he murmured.

'Yes, it's also very useful,' Harry quipped. 'Especially for what we are doing tonight.'

'Also,' Hermione spoke for the first time, 'it is once again crucial that you don't breathe a word about this cloak to anyone. If you do, we'll all be in trouble and I will make sure you get hexed for it.'

Oliver was taken aback by her speech. Then he realized it was Hermione Granger and that she had meant those words without any trace of malice. It was just her usual bossy attitude.

'Yes, Hermione's right. But we did choose to trust you on this one, so we can at least assume you won't rat us out,' Harry added, giving Hermione a look that said 'this was _your_ idea.'

'What? You know I am right. Trustworthy or not, he must know we are being _very_ serious,' she protested.

'I can assure you I won't say a word. Even if I do, I doubt anyone will believe me,' he said, looking at the cloak in wonder.

'Well, yes, these cloaks are extremely rare,' Hermione quipped.

'Exactly,' he said, nodding his head. 'I thought it was just a legend, really.'

'Well, you know how legends go. There's always a morsel of truth in them,' she added.

Oliver was about to reply when Ron interrupted them.

'We don't have much time so we'd better get going.'

'Ron's right, we should not make Hagrid wait. He's already in two minds about this as it is,' Harry confirmed.

'What? All four of us under that cloak?' Oliver asked bewildered.

'No, that's a bit too crowded, even for us,' Harry replied.

'We're going to split,' Ron continued. 'Harry and I will guard the owlry for any…visitors. Fred and George gave me some stink bombs we can use in case people want to drop by. You and Hermione will go fetch the egg.'

Oliver raised an eyebrow in confusion.

'Why me and her?'

'Well, I need to wait for Charlie,' Ron said sheepishly. He was loath to confess that he was actually a bit reluctant. Only a bit though, and mostly because he knew from Charlie that the egg was about to hatch any moment now.

'And we figured that if they caught you after curfew you'd get off easier. See, we're already sort of…put on probation. The three of us I mean,' Ron explained, gesturing towards them.

'Ah, the troll incident,' Oliver remembered.

'Among _many_ others,' Harry added, smiling.

'Alright, well, I guess it's better this way because I can actually carry the egg, whereas you two…' he trailed off, pointing at Ron and Harry.

'Ahem, _I_ can carry the egg just as well,' Hermione interrupted upset.

'Is that why you're coming with me?' Oliver asked, frowning.

'She insisted,' Ron and Harry both confirmed.

'Why?' Oliver asked, curious.

'I want to prove I can do this. The boys already saved me a couple of times. It's my turn,' she said boldly.

Oliver had no argument to that. Well, he could have come up with quite a few retorts but he knew by the look in her eye that it would be a losing battle. She wasn't going to be swayed.

The two slipped the cloak over them and told Harry and Ron they would be back soon. The two boys wished them luck.

Oliver knew they would need it, but he was sure Hermione thought otherwise.

* * *

Sneaking through the castle wearing an invisible cloak proved harder than he imagined. He thought that the power of the unseen would grant him free pass through every nook and cranny. But he had underestimated Hogwarts. There were ghosts, portraits, Prefects or wandering professors who were strangely perceptive to there being another presence near them. Admittedly, the two of them couldn't exactly stop breathing, so in the eerie silence of the corridors, a heavier breath could be easily identified. Not to mention the hurried steps.

Oliver looked down and saw that she was wearing the heaviest boots he had ever seen. They were bigger than her. He rolled his eyes. She was intent upon looking like she was going on a mission.

After one nearly fatal collision with Mrs. Norris, Argus Filch's equally unpleasant cat, they were finally out of the castle and they could breathe a bit lighter.

'Harry should hide this cloak. People might try to steal it. He should put it in a vault at Gringotts,' he said, after a while.

'What do you mean by people?' she asked.

'Well, you know, the kind of people who would appreciate this much power,' Oliver said.

They were walking side by side now, but he could still feel her tangled locks tickling his skin from when they had stood closer.

'You're not one of them, are you?' she asked.

Oliver remained silent.

'Harry will put it away, but for now, it's proving very useful and he can't exactly part with it. As long as you don't say a word about it, it will be fine,' she continued.

Oliver sighed. She had added the last part on purpose.

'It is obvious you don't trust me. Why did you even tell me about the cloak?' he asked annoyed.

'Well, I did ask you to help, didn't I? Maybe it wasn't my smartest move, but I realized I would have to tell you, eventually.'

'It wasn't your smartest move?' he asked astounded.

'At the time, I thought it was a good idea. Maybe it was just your friendship with Hagrid and the fact that you seemed reliable.'

'I _am_ reliable!'

'Yes, well perhaps. You came, so there's that, but the night's not over. Anyway, you understand my reasons now.'

'No. In fact, I am more confused! You could have just chosen to get rid of the egg without me.'

'Well, I thought of that myself. But I do not like leaving loose ends. And as you already knew about the egg, I didn't want to take any chances. Plus, like Ron said, we're on probation. One more slip from us and we'd get something much worse than detentions. But with you in the equation...'

'So, I'm your _scapegoat_?' he asked, scandalized.

'Shush! You're half-shouting!' she reprimanded him.

He scowled again.

'I was going to say we'd have a better chance of not getting caught!' she whispered furiously.

'Yeah right, that's exactly what you were thinking,' he shot back, his voice laced with sarcasm.

After that, there was no more chit-chat. They kept walking in silence.

The night air was colder than usual. He resisted the urge to shiver.

He was certain she didn't feel any cold. Her hair was thicker than a coat.

He felt momentarily bad for making another nasty comment about her hair, but it was hard not to acquire the habit from Fred and George.

He was also not done with their conversation. He certainly did not like being used.

But she was so determined to get things done that he fell silent for the time being.

They reached Hagrid's hut without any unforeseen incidents.

Hagrid, of course, was half-crying in his handkerchief.

'Oh, the little'un! Oh, my poor baby!'

'Hagrid, he'll be safer and happier with Charlie and the other dragons,' Hermione insisted, tapping him lightly on his giant knee.

'Yes, he won't be living in captivity. Well, at least he'll have a little bit more freedom than here,' Oliver added.

Hermione gave him a look.

'Hagrid, you want Norbert to be happy, don't you?'

'Come on, Hagrid, we're doing this for the both of you,' Oliver said. 'We're your friends, we have the best intentions at heart.'

At length, the half-giant gave in, though heavy at heart.

The egg had been wrapped in several rough blankets.

'I will carry it until we get into the castle,' Hermione insisted.

'Are you serious?' Oliver asked.

'Entirely. I can do it.'

'This is not a competition, Granger.'

'Of course not. I just want to carry it too,' she said, shrugging her shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

'But that's just…'

'Completely reasonable. Hagrid, the egg please,' she said demandingly.

There was no room left for argument, yet again.

'You are going to drop it, you realize?'

'Not a chance,' she bit back. 'You'll see.'

Oliver was going to enjoy the moment she would admit he was right. But he had a feeling he would eat his words, knowing her.

When they left Hagrid, they were sure the half-giant would spend his night crying. It couldn't be helped.

Hermione hugged the egg tightly to her chest.

'It's so warm. I can't believe it will grow into a giant dragon. Scary,' she said absently.

He placed his hands on the shell tentatively, almost as if he was afraid it might break. It was warm indeed and he wasn't particularly happy with the coldness outside, so it was a welcome change.

They were both admiring its beauty and taking advantage of its warmth.

It was getting quite peaceful. They were under the cloak, the sky was starry and they were caressing a giant dragon egg.

But Hermione felt something was wrong.

She gripped his hand suddenly.

'Do you feel that?'

'Feel what?'

'It's cracking! The shell!'

She was right. Panic swept over them as they saw the surface slowly start to dismember.

'Quick! We have to run for it!' Oliver urged her.

'What about inside? They will catch us!'

'It doesn't matter! They'll thank us for not unleashing a baby dragon in the Great Hall.'

As it was now almost ten, the corridors and hallways were almost if not completely empty and they were lucky enough not to be heard while they ran wildly through the castle. From time to time they stopped to listen if someone was coming.

They knew Peeves or the Bloody Baron made awful noise during the night so they hoped the students and teachers would suppose it's just the ghosts.

'Oh, God, I'm pretty sure it's going to break before we get there!' she whispered alarmed.

Oliver was now carrying it and he was doing his best not to drop it.

He was also scared witless.

'Did you say his bite is poisonous?' Hermione asked.

'Oh, God, Hermione, you have to remind me now?' Oliver asked exasperated.

'Sorry, just a warning.'

Oliver almost tripped when they turned a corner rapidly but luckily, Hermione was there to steady him and catch the egg.

'Watch where you're going!'

'You're stronger than you appear. Thanks,' he muttered.

'Don't thank me! Don't drop it!' she whispered furiously.

In the midst of it all, he couldn't help remarking she did not take small gratitude well.

He couldn't blame her, considering.

When they reached, the owlry, he was sure he had sprained an ankle. He wondered how he was still walking.

Harry and Ron were waiting eagerly.

'You got it!' Ron exclaimed. 'Good job!'

'Not exactly! It's hatching!' Hermione yelped.

'Alright, let's not panic! Charlie's going to come very soon!' Harry told them.

'They placed the egg on a pile of hay and stared at it bewildered.

They noticed the owls had grown restless and were now flying down to inspect it.

One of them started pecking at it.

'No, no, shoo! Shoo!' Ron shrieked, brushing her off.

'Better hold it then,' Hermione said, picking it up again.

'No, it's poisonous,' Oliver reminded her, yanking it from her. He was being a bit more selfless than usual.

The owls were still flying around their heads.

Strange, howling sounds started coming from the egg. The owls started yelling too, out of fear.

'Shut up you stupid birds! You'll wake the entire castle!' Ron yelled annoyed.

He was only edging them more. He took the egg from Hermione and started running around, trying to silence it. He looked quite mad.

Harry tried casting a charm on the owls, but there were too many.

'Good God, is this a riot?' a voice erupted from the window.

'Charlie!' Ron yelped happily.

'Not exactly,' another voice quipped.

Ron was more than disappointed to see three familiar looking young men standing on their broomsticks proudly.

He was certain Charlie had shown him a photo of him and his mates once. He had told him he might not be able to make it, but that he would send _someone_.

He just didn't think that someone was actually not one.

'Charlie sent us to take care of your little dragon problem. We'll be taking him now,' the third added.

'Can we trust them, Ron?' Hermione shouted desperately.

'Not that we have much a choice, but they _are_ dragon tamers. Let's just give them the egg before it bloody hatches!'

'Not to worry, we'll put him to sleep for the ride,' the first man said cheerfully. 'We've done this before.'

Hermione could not understand how they could be so high-spirited. Habit or not, this wasn't a very peachy situation.

Harry took the egg from Ron's arms and placed it gently in the arms of the first young man.

They tipped their heads in gratitude and as soon as they had arrived they were gone.

Leaving the four of them in a pile of hay and bird excrement.

* * *

When they finally arrived back in their common room, they were beyond exhausted. And slightly bewildered they had pulled it off with no repercussions.

They were sure it was bound to fall on their heads tomorrow.

They all sat sprawled on the couch, ready to fall asleep on each other's shoulder.

Hermione, who was sitting next to Oliver, looked about to doze off right there and then.

Her head was falling slowly on his left shoulder.

He quickly got up.

'I'd better go to bed now. You'd do well to do the same thing. We'll talk tomorrow I guess.'

'We will,' Harry replied. 'Thanks for everything, Oliver. You've been a big help.'

'Yes, thanks a lot, we won't forget it,' Ron added warmly.

Hermione blinked tiredly and brushed some frizzy strands out of her eyes.

'Yes, and remember, this is between us,' she told him warily.

'And thanks,' she added after a pause.

Oliver groaned internally. After everything that had happened she was still a sour lemon.

He sighed. He gave up trying to expect a normal reaction from her.

Instead, he bid them goodnight and climbed up to his dormitory.

In bed that night, all he could think of was how wonderful it had felt to see a baby dragon egg coming out of its shell and to feel its warmth through the shallow surface.

It had been quite something.

It was slightly unfortunate he hadn't been alone. Hermione Granger refused to be etched out of the memory, which was the source of some irritation.

She was a pain.

A pain he'd probably have to learn to live with.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hi everyone, new chapter is up, because I finally managed to write a cohesive chapter after a couple of writer's blocks. Many thanks to all reviewers and readers for the encouragement, in particular to **IReadFromTheLastPage**, who is awesome as usual. I didn't get upset at all, both your reviews were extremely kind and considerate and I feel very flattered :) _

_I hope everyone enjoys the chapter:)_

* * *

_5: Oliver and Hermione don't understand each other_

It was the last game of the year. It was going to be between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

Oliver wasn't too concerned because he was confident his players were much better than theirs, despite the fact that the Ravenclaws had an equally good Keeper.

The real problem was practice again. The Ravenclaws were trying to strike a deal with Madam Hooch for more hours on the field while Oliver had to content himself with the fact that Hooch had been a Ravenclaw herself and while she professed a strict sense of justice, she might be swayed by old loyalties.

He was just coming out of Madam Hooch's office, after a gruelling session of bargaining over practice, when he met Lisa Turpin, captain of the Ravenclaw team, waiting on a bench on the corridor.

'You are wasting your time, Lisa. We got Thursday and Friday, you can't change that anymore,' he told her right away.

'And hello to you too, Oliver. Tense much?' she asked, smirking.

'I was only letting you know, because I am sure you came here with the same purpose,' he said distantly.

'That's where you would be wrong. I came here to quit,' she said.

Oliver almost doubled up from the shock.

'What do you mean quit?'

'I don't want to be captain anymore,' she explained.

'You don't want to be- ? How can you even-? Lisa, come on, you must be joking!'

'I am obviously not, since I am here and ready to do this.'

'But you've always told me how great it is to be captain!'

'Yes, it can be great, for a while.'

'What do you mean for a while?'

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

'Look, I know you'll be captain soon, the way you're going at it. I'm sure next year will be your turn. You're still young,' she trailed off.

'But I am not ready to spend my last years here wasting all my efforts on a Quidditch team,' she confessed.

'Oh, come off it, you're not putting that much effort.'

'How would you know that, _Wood_?' she asked, her nostrils flaring. 'I happen to spend a lot of time on my team. Just because you don't see it doesn't mean it's not true.'

'Fine, I take back my words, it's just, you can't just quit because it's too hard. It's Quidditch, it's not meant to be easy, but you know it's rewarding,' he argued.

'Yes, but it's also not meant to be _everything_,' she said.

'I didn't say that. I know it's not nearly as important as...other things,' he began.

'Do you really? Because sometimes you act like it is. I mean you're so righteous and you can't stand someone not sharing your views.'

'Righteous?' he exclaimed in disbelief. 'I'm anything but...'

Lisa smiled wryly.

'You're quick to judge and you judge everything by this, well almost everything.'

Oliver was at a loss for words. His mind was reeling. He had not expected to receive this from Lisa Turpin of all people.

'Don't take it personally. I have nothing against you,' she said, patting him on the shoulder.

He stared at her hand. He flinched.

'I hope you'll still think well of me, despite this,' she said.

Now Oliver was trapped. He didn't particularly like her at the moment, but he couldn't tell her that because then she would have really believed he was biased.

'Of course...Lisa.'

'Don't doubt yourself. You're just overzealous. And very passionate, which is good. Too good sometimes.'

This is where their conversation ended because Madam Hooch opened the door and signalled her in, but it was enough for Oliver.

He returned to his common room feeling very stupid. It was as if someone had dropped him on the head.

He looked around in panic, wondering if anyone had noticed him. He didn't want people to know he was angry. He never appeared anything but cheerful and resolute.

He sat down on one of the couches. His heart started beating faster. He wished he could move, but he was stuck sitting, because the room was small and there were people around him and he couldn't risk making a scene or a gesture he could regret.

From the corner of his eye he spotted Hermione Granger studying at a small desk.

She was flipping through numerous heavy-looking books in a frenzy.

He remembered it was Saturday afternoon and that everyone was wasting time elsewhere, enjoying themselves, except for her. He looked around. It was true. No one was even thinking of work. She was the only one studying.

Oliver didn't see Harry Potter or Ron Weasley anywhere in sight.

"They must be outside, enjoying the weather," he thought.

First Years didn't even have that much homework.

He got up and decided to see what she was studying at. He was curious what was more captivating than the lovely weather outside.

He peeked behind her back.

It was, as far as he could tell, Second Year material. Herbology. He wrinkled his nose.

And she was going through it as if it was child's play. She wasn't even really paying attention to what she was doing, most likely.

He wondered in fright whether Hermione ever took a break from being...well, Hermione. Did she ever let down her hair? Did she ever stop thinking so much?

'It's not polite to stare, Oliver.'

That shook him up immediately. Hermione had noticed his inquisitive eye. It was hard to miss a tall, well built Quidditch player staring down your back.

'I wasn't staring,' he defended himself. 'I was just a bit curious.'

'A bit curious about what?'

'What you were doing here that was so important,' he added.

'A little bit of light reading and such,' she explained, waving her hand.

'All I see is studying, really.'

She smiled knowingly and revealed a thicker book under her notebooks.

He stared at it bewildered. How had he not noticed the thick volume?

'I'm actually indulging in some personal reading, but I've kept my study books around me so I don't slack off. I can do both at the same time.'

'You won't even allow yourself to take a break to _read_ something. That seems a bit...contradictory,' he remarked.

'Not at all. It keeps me occupied.'

'You're always occupied.'

'No, my mind isn't always occupied,' she contradicted them.

'And it should be?'

She made a noncommittal gesture and went back to her reading.

'What are you reading anyways?'

'A bit of Nicholas Flammel,' she murmured.

'Flammel?' Oliver asked in astonishment. 'I've heard of him. That's _not_ light reading.'

'Well, the volume is a collection of alchemy and science so it's really more of an educational book, not really heavy stuff.'

Oliver snatched the volume right from her hands.

'Hey, give it back!'

He browsed through it in interest.

'So, why are you interested in Flammel?' he asked.

'He is a fascinating scientist,' she began carefully.

'Knowing you and your friends, there's more to it than that.'

'That's a bit mean, isn't it?' she asked, frowning.

'Well, I recall you smuggled a dragon into Hogwarts so no, it isn't.'

'With your help, I might add!' she whispered furiously.

Oliver's eyes fell on the page she was reading. He found the paragraph concerning Flammel's discoveries.

'Let's see what we have here...' he muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to grab her book. He was taller and stronger so her attempts were met with failure.

'Philosopher's Stone?' he asked.

'No,' she said quickly, 'I'm reading something else.'

Oliver smiled.

'So you are reading that. But it's just a myth, right, the Stone I mean?'

'As far as _you_ know,' Hermione said, folding her arms.

'Come on, Granger, everyone knows the Philosopher's Stone is not real. Not even wizards believe in it.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

'That makes you the expert.'

'What, you think there is such a thing? And that Flammel has it?'

'I never said that, I'm just interested in the subject.'

'Oh, I see. Light reading, like you said.'

'What are you on about anyway?' she asked, meaning to divert him. 'You seem upset.'

'I'm not. Just mildly amused.'

'No, you're upset about something,' she insisted, hoping he'd forget about Flammel.

What she didn't know was the fact that he really _was_ upset.

'I'm _not_ upset.'

'Is it about Quidditch?' she asked, making conversation.

That made Oliver snap.

'Why? Why does everyone believe I would be upset about Quidditch?' he retorted.

Hermione blinked surprised. She had not expected this outburst.

She searched his face worriedly.

'Well...you seem upset about it,' she reasoned calmly.

'Well, I'm not. Everything's going fine with Quidditch. The last game will be fine!'

'Last game? Is that what this is about?' she asked in wonder.

'No. It's just other people _assuming_ it's the last game,' he said, looking down upset.

'I don't understand.'

Oliver sighed.

'I'm sorry. I was just a bit cheesed off. It's nothing.'

'You mean to say other people think you worry about Quidditch?' Hermione asked.

He was strangely grateful for her quick perceptiveness.

'I don't, but they think it's the only thing on my mind.'

Hermione mulled over this statement a couple of seconds.

'Well, I don't suppose this is the first time you hear this?'

'How do you mean?'

'Well, others must have noticed how you ...think about it all the time,' she said carefully.

'Fine, maybe others have said so, but they weren't on the Quidditch team.'

'So someone on the team told you that? Oh, that must be awkward,' she remarked.

'What is?'

'Well, if even your mates have mentioned it...'

Oliver understood her meaning. Even the people who played Quidditch thought he was too keen on it.

He frowned.

'And you probably think they're right, don't you?' he challenged her.

Hermione was torn. On the one hand, she wanted to be honest, on the other hand, she wanted her book back and she didn't feel like hurting his feelings.

'Your silence tells me enough. Well, you obsess just as much with books and studying as I with Quidditch, so there,' he said, throwing her book in her lap. 'We're even.'

'I never said...' she began, but Oliver had walked away impatiently.

Hermione watched him as he crawled out of the portrait.

She didn't understand what had happened.

* * *

Hours later, after his short-lived anger had dissipated, Oliver realized he had been slightly impolite to Hermione for no good reason. He couldn't even remember half of their conversation but he was sure he had been a bit nastier than usual.

He was planning on apologizing sometime soon, perhaps at supper. But then it dawned on him how she was _always_ quite impolite with him and she never cared about what she said to him, so why should he? It wasn't as if they were friends.

It's true that her strange interest in the Philosopher's Stone had piqued his curiosity. Ever since he had met the three troublesome First Years, he had realized they were up to no good and that they always got themselves into the most extraordinary of situations, which was both a repel and an incentive.

Supper came and went and he didn't get a chance to speak to her and by the time night fell over the castle, he had safely put the business out of his mind.

He decided to go the field and fly a little to clear his head.

It was already half-past eight so he had to hurry.

He rose up into the air over the black mass of the Forbidden Forest, the grey Black Lake and the school grounds, feeling once again invincible and untouchable.

There was no one in sight and for a brief moment, seeing the lights extinguish themselves one by one, he felt he was the only living boy left at Hogwarts and maybe, the world.

It was a light-headed feeling. The solitude didn't frighten him though. It was the natural way of the flyer.

In the bright light of a couple of isolated stars he could have a clear look through the windows of the East Tower which he was circling at the moment.

Someone was walking down the stairs hurriedly, someone whose robes billowed behind him like the flames of a violet fire. Oliver recognized the purple turban on his head.

'Professor Quirrel?' he asked.

There was something strange and terrifying about the look on the professor's face. He was like a dead man, running mechanically without any purpose.

What was most odd was how he kept turning his head behind him, as if he was sure someone was following him.

Oliver thought it was ridiculous how he kept walking with his back turned.

Then Quirrel ducked behind a crevice in the wall which was quite unfamiliar to Oliver.

He flew down a flight of stairs, but Quirrel had disappeared.

Oliver memorised the place. It would be difficult to find afterwards, but he thought he could manage it, if it came to that.

When he finally flew away, his mind was already working out a way to discover where that passage led.


	6. Chapter 6

_'ello everyone, back with a new chapter! Sorry for the delay, it's been hectic around my house, long story short, dad's trying to build a swimming pool in the back yard, not as cool as it sounds. Anyways, I just wanted to say how grateful I am for the wonderful reviews, you guys just keep making me want to write more:) Many thanks to the anonymous reviewers **amusiclover96, anna and IReadFromTheLastPage. **_

_**IReadFromTheLastPage: **__I am truly humbled by your extremely kind review, I don't think I deserve such praise but I am very grateful for your appreciation and for showing so much support :) Also, you shouldn't be thinking you can't write because you already have so many astute observations about this process and you can see the ideas behind the words so go for it:) Don't get discouraged because you think you can't write characters. After all, we're writing about fully-fledged humans and it is damn hard to make them come alive, so consider that:) And yes, I was going for this aspect, that Hermione and Oliver are both misunderstood by others and they have to overcome this issue and find understanding in their friends and each other, but that will come later. For now, thanks again for being so supportive :)  
_

_I hope you all like this chapter and sorry about the cliffhanger._

* * *

_6: Hermione tries, Oliver doesn't_

The long awaited day had come. The final Quidditch game was finally here and both the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors were showing their team spirit in the most creative of ways.

Michael Corner and Lisa Turpin had climbed up on the dining table during breakfast and had sung a very clamorous tune about the victory of the eagles over the skies. It had lasted for a minute and a half, until Professor Flitwick had decided he was too old for this and had cast a spell on them, rendering them mute for the rest of the day.

The Gryffindors on the other hand, had charmed all the goblets to align in mid-air and write 'Grifindoor Champ!' They had meant to spell 'Gryffindor' but Fred and George weren't as skilled in Charms as they liked to think.

Oliver had not been too impressed with their little trick.

'Oh, cheer up, you ninny!' the twins had bellowed at him. 'We're going to be great out there, we always are!'

'I know we've got far better players,' Oliver began, biting into his bacon, 'but let me remind you again that Lisa Turpin has quit and they've replaced her with Davies. And I've seen him on the field. He's far better than Turpin and you know it. He'll prove a challenge.'

'A challenge we can most certainly take. That Davies fellow has no grace on a broom and we've got plenty,' Fred said cheerfully.

'And you know this how?'

'You're not the only one sneaking around, watching Quidditch practice.'

'I don't sneak...'

'Well, it must be some sort of guilty pleasure for you then,' Fred interrupted.

'It's not a guilty pl...Why didn't you tell me this before?' he asked, scandalized.

'What? That we spy on the Ravenclaws?...Well, we don't _exactly_ go to watch strategies or anything.'

'What does that mean _exactly_?'

'Don't worry, we do not hold it against you if _you_ do. We like to watch the girls bend over their broomsticks, whereas you like to watch Davies swinging about. Everyone's got their thing.'

'Everyone's got their thing, eh? Well then, how about I tell Angelina you switched places when you went out with her last time?' Oliver asked, raising an eyebrow menacingly. 'Maybe I should also throw in the fact that you are very fond of the Ravenclaw girls.'

At this the twins visibly faltered. Oliver knew how to be one step ahead. They were too proud to cave in, however.

'_Us_? _Switched_?' Fred asked incredulously. 'By God. When did we do that, George? Because I don't remember it at all. Seems like Wood knows us better than we do.'

'Afraid I do, after three years in your company.'

'You sound displeased with that. You're not going to run back to Ireland now, are you?' George pressed him.

'And leave the House and team in your hands? Not a chance,' he said, shaking his head. 'Now, about Davies, I think...'

'God, on he goes about Davies! Do you really need to repeat everything you've told us yesterday?' Fred complained.

'I'm only making sure you're not going to treat this lightly,' Oliver insisted. 'Even you'll have to admit Davies is superior to all those sops on his team.'

'Nothing a good ol' bat can't fix,' they chirped.

'How many times do I have to say this? Don't bludger the poor bloke, that's barbaric. Just veer him off course when he's getting too bold, but not when he's _not_ holding the Quaffle,' Oliver reminded them.

'Oh, we'll veer him off alright,' the twins said, exchanging mischievous looks.

'Preferably without foul play,' Oliver added, smiling despite himself. 'Remember, he'll be looking for that. He'll make it so you have clear target on him and then claim it was foul. He's very Slytherin in that. Much like his sister, Tracey.'

'Oh, have you already traced his family tree?'

'No, it just happens I'm better informed. Listen, whatever you do, don't give him the opportunity to take you out of the game, alright?'

'Mate, you always say that because you think it's your moral obligation towards us, but we can watch our backs and we _know_ you secretly want us to scratch him a little,' George said, grinning.

'All the scratching will be done outside the field,' Oliver insisted.

'So, after the game then, Fred?' George asked, nudging his brother.

'Though it would also be great if you two could contain yourselves from making his life hell just cos he's the new Chaser,' Oliver added, rolling his eyes.

'Oh, so you want us picking on the old ones? Sure, why not? But we've already gone through all of them, seems like a lack of originality on our part,' Fred bit back, feigning innocence.

'See how original I'm going to be when I have you two suspended,' Oliver quipped.

'What, you're actually going to do it this time, Wood?' they asked amused.

'Don't tempt me, I would have half a mind to if you weren't such bloody good players,' he said.

'And altogether charming lads with charming personalities and charming looks,' they added in a sing-song voice.

'Bit narcissistic on your part, don't you think?' a foreign voice asked.

Oliver turned around to see Hermione Granger hovering over his shoulder, her bag pulled over her arm casually, her long hair as frizzy and unruly as ever. He remarked it always looked a bit...wilder in the morning. He figured she never brushed her hair, or at least didn't like to have mirrors around her.

'Granger, who invited you to our party?' the twins asked, staring her down.

'Do you realize you've spelt 'Gryffindor' wrong?' she asked, narrowing her eyes at them.

'No we haven't,' they contradicted her boldly.

'Yes, you have,' she insisted patiently.

'Like a First Year would know. That's the correct spelling. You must have not learnt your grammar properly, Granger.'

'On the contrary, I think someone's been sleeping during Professor Flitwick's classes,' she retorted mildly.

'So you came here to instruct us upon the importance of Charms?'

'No, I actually came to say hello to Oliver,' she said.

Oliver was taken aback. Why had she come to speak with him? Wasn't she still mad about the other day when he had been rude?

'Hello to you too...Granger,' Oliver said cautiously.

'I wanted to wish you good luck today, I'll be cheering from the crowd,' she said, looking back towards her empty seat where Ron was making odd faces at her. Harry had already left to get prepared.

'Thanks, I appreciate it,' he said, thinking the game must be quite boring for her in general.

'Er, Harry's really nervous again, you know him,' she added.

'It's only natural,' Oliver replied, nodding his head. 'He's at the beginning.'

'Yes, well, good luck again and don't let _others_ put you down,' she continued, shifting from one foot to another, 'it's not worth the bother.'

She had meant this as an allusion to their previous talk. It was her way of patching things up. Hermione Granger always felt the need to 'patch things up' even when it wasn't her fault.

A tiny part of him appreciated her gesture and felt some relief in knowing she was not upset with him, but another bigger part worried she had misunderstood him and that she now thought he was an insecure baby who needed assistance. He knew girls like her would fawn over a helpless child.

'I won't Granger, I never do,' he said firmly.

She smiled a little before turning completely serious and averting her gaze to the twins.

'Good luck you two. Don't do something stupid,' she said in a very grave voice and turned around without another word. They watched her return to her seat.

'Now there's McGonagall's secret lovechild,' Fred remarked. 'The old cat has been hiding her all this time.'

'Play nice you two, she's just a bit...odd,' Oliver reasoned.

'A bit odd? Mate, you haven't seen her in action.'

_I have, unfortunately,_ Oliver thought.

'Well, I think I'm done here, I'll see you in the changing rooms, get ready,' he announced, getting up and setting his napkin down.

The twins waved their hands and said they'd try and make it on time.

* * *

As Oliver trod down the stoned path that led to the Quidditch field he couldn't help noticing that the air around him felt a little bit sharper than usual. It wasn't the summer weather, although it was inconveniently warm for a match, and it wasn't the dark stain in the sky which was threatening to turn into a heavy cloud of rain. They were ready for summer showers and any such suprises which had lost their novelty by now.

Something else was casting a shadow over the lovely day outside.

Needless to say, it put a damper on his mood.

He couldn't exactly put his finger on it. It was like an unwelcome presence lurking behind him in an ominous way.

There was too much tension in the air. He feared that once he got up on the broom all chaos would break loose. Well, all internal chaos at least. He knew it was a ridiculous thought, but if the troubling feeling kept pressing him he would most likely find his escape or his undoing in flight.

He shook his head firmly. Why was he being so childish? What was there to worry about? What would be his undoing?

He walked on alone.

Only when he had reached the changing rooms did he realize what had bothered him so. He could see him from afar even if he was just a dot in the distance.

Professor Quirrel was standing alone by the Black Lake, muttering to himself. Or at least that's what it looked like.

Oliver had the instinct to shudder. That man had never inspired any trust in him. And after what he had seen some previous nights ago he felt there was something off about him.

Nevertheless, he argued with himself that it might be his wild imagination and that he was just fabricating stories over facts. There was no proof Quirrel was actually strange or bad-intentioned. In fact, he had been awfully nice and polite to everyone right from the start.

Maybe that's what he didn't like about him. He was maddeningly obsequious and careful with everybody. That didn't make for a very strong-willed man now, did it?

He was also very secretive, despite his openness. It wasn't the fact that he was private. He would invite students to his office and tutor them personally. But he was definitely hiding something, something painful perhaps. Oliver wondered whether he had some form of disease or a tragic past he couldn't let go of.

Notwithstanding, his curiosity remained piqued about the secret tunnel Quirrel had walked through that night. Where did it lead to? And what was his teacher doing there?

He realized he had been staring for a while because his eyes accidentally met the professor's. He quickly turned away and pretended to look for the changing room keys.

'Oh, Mr. W-Wood! Mr. W-Wood!' a shrill voice came from the lake.

Oliver winced. He remembered now the other reason for not liking him. He stuttered every single word he uttered.

He snuck a look behind his shoulder.

Surely enough, the man himself was running meekly towards him, his hands flailing about in a pitiful attempt to move faster.

'J-Just the p-person I wanted t-to see!' he yelled cheerfully.

Oliver smiled reluctantly and waved politely.

'Professor Quirrel, the game doesn't start for an hour,' he told him.

Quirrel stopped momentarily with his mouth open and looked around alarmed. There were small groups of people already climbing down to the field and three or four had already taken their seat in the stadium.

'I'm an early b-bird t-too you s-see, Mr. W-Wood,' he said, pointing at the children walking by. 'M-May I h-have a word w-with you?'

Oliver frowned slightly.

'Right now, Sir?'

'I'm afraid it c-can't w-wait. D-Don't worry, I won't k-keep you f-for l-long, I know the big g-game is c-coming up,' he said, grinning a pair of yellow teeth.

'Alright, of course,' he said, opening the changing room doors and signalling him to come in.

'My, m-my, what a l-lovely p-place you've got here. All y-your equip-pment is here, y-your b-brooms and your uniforms, s-splendid!'

'Yes, it's quite comforting,' Oliver said, sitting down on one of the benches. 'Now, what did you wish to talk about?'

'W-Well, m-my boy, I h-hope you can k-keep this b-between you and m-me,' Quirrel began, walking towards him.

'Sir?' Oliver asked confused.

'Y-you see, it is a d-difficult m-matter...' he trailed off.

'What do you mean?'

'I-It involves y-you p-particularly,' he added, smiling gently.

Quirrel raised his wand and pointed it at Oliver.

'Imperio,' he said softly.

Oliver did not have time to open his mouth or move because the curse hit him straight in the chest and his entire body went limp, while his mind began drifting further and further away from him.

'Quidditch, the game of the villagers,' Quirrel said, looking around in disdain.

'Well,' he said, directing his attention at Oliver, 'I have had enough of bludgers. They are not very efficient, you see and I am running out of time, so I must improvise. I know _you_ are the best player on the team, the strongest, the most agile... the most intelligent too. I've seen you in class. You show great potential.'

Oliver could hear the voice but could barely register the meaning behind the words, much less realize what was happening. It was as if someone had bitten into his brain and had left a mark, but he could not understand what the mark was for.

'You will do a better job this time around. Now listen to me carefully. You are going to kill Harry Potter...or at least die trying.'


	7. Chapter 7

_Wow, 39 reviews? When did this happen? You're all seriously too wonderful right now, but since I am being sentimental, I'd like to thank everyone for pitching in a review, they really do motivate me. _

_Thanks to **MyNameisNessa** (let's hope Hermione doesn't resort to that), **IReadFromTheLastPage** (again, incredibly flattering, hope camp was fun),** arillovesyou22** (very happy you like odd couples too and very flattered), **Ingrid Elise, anna, Applejax XD, the undyinglands** (I think I've mentioned it before but I've placed Oliver in the twins' year, for selfish reasons),** alindy** (happy you approve:) ), **SR2** (he was Scottish in the movies, but there's no reference about it in the books as far as I know, so I chose Irish), **Wolness** (Oliver is def. a third year when Hermione starts, a change I thought would be very useful), **Erin Salvatore** (no apologies needed :) )_

_Hugs to everyone for the amazing support, it gives me some faith in my writing. Hope you like it._

* * *

_7: Oliver makes it, Hermione breaks it_

'Someone must have fed me a Zonko Potion because our very own Mr. Wood has left the Keeper's post and is now chasing Gryffindor Seeker Harry Potter around the field!' Lee's voice boomed like an earthquake across the field where the crowd was already growing restless.

'Ladies and gents this is an extraordinary event! Could Wood be thick enough to start strategizing with Harry in the _middle_ of the game?' Lee asked in astonishment.

But even Lee stopped making jokes when he noticed the Gryffindor Keeper had taken out his wand.

The entire crowd watched mesmerized as Oliver Wood chased Harry Potter across the field, the former's wand clearly aimed at the latter's head while sporting a grim expression of determination on his face.

Everyone was beginning to realize Wood was acting very, _very_ strange.

'Wood, mate, you've got to stop acting like a bloody ghoul, put that wand down!' Lee shouted, his own amplifying wand, which was aimed at his neck, trembling slightly.

But Oliver was not having it.

Harry turned around for a moment and tried to reason with him.

'Oliver, what's wrong? Why are you doing this?' he hollered, the wind wiping his face clean.

Oliver did not even remotely consider replying but instead only stared intensely into his green eyes. Harry shuddered and for a brief moment he almost let his hands slip from their hold.

That stare had been so lifeless and yet so hungry!

And then it happened. Oliver threw a hex in his direction. It barely, just barely missed his left ear.

'Something's not right!' Harry shouted to no one in particular. 'Wood is cursed!'

Back in the crowd, Hermione and Ron were watching in despair.

'The second time in a row, Ron! The second time in a row! Someone's always trying to kill him!' she cried, holding onto his scarf.

'Stop shouting, Hermione, we've got to do something!' Ron yelled back, ignoring the fact that he was raising his voice as well.

Hermione's eyes instantly flew to Professor Snape but he was watching the events unfold with similar anxiety. In fact, she was arrested in thought for a moment. Snape had never looked so concerned the entire year. But as she followed his eyes more carefully, she realized he was really staring at Wood.

'Of course! Why am I such an idiot?' she chided herself. 'Oliver has obviously been cursed!'

Once again, Professor Snape had offered an answer, unknowingly.

'Cursed? What kind of curse would make him do _this_, Hermione?' he wailed back.

They both hadn't heard of Imperio yet, although they knew about the Killing Curse, but Hermione guessed that whatever kind of curse this was, it was meant to control the victim's actions some way or another, because Oliver would obviously never decide to attack Harry and during a Quidditch game of all things.

She pushed away these thoughts as she kept thinking of a way to stop him.

Ron's wand had already been raised. He was pointing it at Oliver.

'Ron no!' she said pushing his hand away. 'You might hit Harry!'

'I'll just aim for Wood.'

'He's an innocent victim in all of this!' she shouted.

'You know he'd never do something like this!' she added.

Ron seemed to be in two minds about it.

'We don't know a whole lot about him. My brothers do but they can't be trus- '

Hermione interrupted him anxiously.

'Never mind that! We have to do something! We can't just sit here!'

'Well, whatever curse he's under, a Finite Incantatem should do the trick, shouldn't it?' he shouted back.

'Yes, but how in the world are we going to cast it?' she asked, wringing her hands.

'Um, hope they'll fly this way?' he suggested.

'Harry'll be seriously injured by then,' she retorted.

'I'm going to try a spell I haven't before,' she warned Ron, swallowing back her pressing doubts.

'Accio broomstick!' she shouted before she had any time to change her mind.

At first, nothing happened, although the other broomsticks in the air started trembling.

She tried again, aiming at the equipment room.

'Accio broomstick!'

It was sudden and painful for the people around her. The doors to the lockers popped open violently and one of the old broomsticks flew up into the air and crashed into the neighbouring students.

No one was really bothered though, everyone was watching Harry.

'Are you completely mental?' Ron asked scandalized.

'Yes, now get on! There's no time to think this through!'

Already the teachers had stopped the game and the players were all flying towards Harry and Oliver.

Hermione knew they wouldn't be faster than any of them, but they had to try. They couldn't just watch their best friend fly towards death while they sat in the crowd.

Ron jumped on the broom quickly and Hermione reluctantly followed, circling his waist like there was no tomorrow, praying desperately that the few and far between flying lessons they'd taken this year would show their use.

She shut her eyes and let herself fall into that hopeless state of chaos known as flying.

'Good Merlin, two students have just entered the field with their own broomstick! They don't look older than First Years! That's real friendship right there,' Lee gushed in a fit of emotions.

'How come you actually know what you're doing?' Hermione shouted as they flew past one of the Quidditch rings.

'I played with my brothers over the summer!' he yelled back.

'Wonderful, now could you get us in range?'

'Hermione, this wind is not helping!'

The threatening rain cloud Oliver had spotted earlier was getting close to exacting its revenge. The wind had built up considerably.

Hermione was beginning to doubt this spurious plan.

'Come on, Ron! We have to go faster, Harry needs us!'

Harry, however, had abandoned any hope of reasoning with Wood and was now flying towards the Black Lake.

It seemed as if the wind had surrounded the water completely, because a thick layer of fog had risen above it like a fortress shielding away the lake creatures. But there always seemed to be fog over the Black Lake.

All the Quidditch players, both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor lost their sense of direction upon entering it and most hope of actually reaching Oliver and Harry since the fog was blinding them.

Hermione saw the peril ahead.

'Fog!' she shouted.

'I know!' Ron yelled. 'Bloody hell, how do you turn this broom around?'

They were already wobbling in mid-air which wasn't exactly natural flying. It was a wonder they had made it so far. Turning now would have sent them both reeling to the ground.

'Ron, go down!' she shouted.

'Down where?'

'Down towards the lake, of course!'

'There's still plenty of fog there silly!'

'Not if we dive a little.'

'Excuse me?'

'Through the water, Ronald!'

'Are you completely bonkers? Through the water? Some horrible monster will snatch- '

'Now!' she commanded and veered the broom towards the ground.

'All right! Merlin!' he shouted and dived right towards the lake.

They both closed their eyes and waited for the cold, black liquid to envelop them like a poisonous cloak. The first drops splashed their faces and obliged them to open their eyes.

That is when Hermione noticed something startling.

Harry and Oliver were _in_ the water.

They were falling fast into the depths of the black expanse but Oliver was pushing Harry further and further down, his hands tightly wound around his neck.

Hermione yelped in terror and before even rationalizing what she was doing – yet again – she jumped right into the water and started swimming clumsily towards the two.

She heard Ron's muffled scream but ignored it, since she had little air to spare and a mission to accomplish.

The cold liquid hit her with the impact of a Quidditch Bludger. Her muscles started contracting from the cold, but she gritted her teeth and launched herself at the tangled mass which was Harry and Oliver.

She took out her wand and shouted 'Finite Incantatem!', aiming it at Oliver's back. Small bubbles of oxygen started to rise up all around her.

She realized in horror it had not worked.

She shouted it again, thinking that she would have to hex him off.

Oliver was still fighting a weakened Harry who was growing rapidly weaker.

At the last moment, Hermione threw herself over him and grabbed his face turning it towards her.

Oliver was met with her unwavering brown eyes, the eyes which held no secrets or deceptions, only honesty and kindness.

Although he had been fighting a living nightmare throughout the entire chase, he was finally seeing someone for the first time. It startled him completely, because he had thought she would be in the crowd, far away from him.

Holding his cheeks in her small hand, she shouted with all her strength, 'Finite Incantatem!', pointing the wand at his throat.

And suddenly, the black waters became clear and his hands went limp around him as Harry was extricated from his grasp.

He let out a breath which turned into a giant, blue bubble.

Harry swam towards the surface hungrily. Oliver felt pain in his knuckles. He realized now how white they were. He had been holding onto something tightly.

He noticed Hermione was pulling his sleeve and mumbling something.

He only then became aware they were slowly drowning.

Without a second thought, he grabbed her small waist and started swimming towards the light above.

Something was weighing him down, however.

When he looked down he realized in horror that a silvery-looking creature with long tentacles was wrapped around Hermione's leg, pulling her down with all its might.

He also noticed Hermione was losing her conscience and so was he.

With one last hopeless thrust, he tried to break her free from the creature.

Seeing as they were barely able to move anymore, he closed his eyes and pulled her body against his, wrapping his arms around her in a protective embrace, awaiting the end.

* * *

_"Hermione breaks it", get it, get it? The title makes sense now, cuz she broke the curse. I know, I know, I need to stop trying to be funny. And if you're wondering how the heck Hermione knows Accio already...well, she's Hermione and we love her for it.  
_


	8. Chapter 8

_Wow, it has been a while, hasn't it? I got caught up in all my other writings, I forgot to finish up this chapter which had been started some time ago. I hope everyone still remembers this small story. I can't believe so many of you reviewed and I can't express enough gratitude to all of you who read and write encouraging and constructive criticism. I am humbled by your support. You're wonderful, all of you and I'm sorry for making you wait. _

_Hoping this will be enjoyable to all :)_

_P.S. Big stuff happening next chapter, lots of action and I will try to update faster._

* * *

_8: Hermione is there for Oliver_

It was not a pleasant awakening for Oliver Wood. His mind was a complete blank and anything after that morning and a Weasley snide comment at breakfast was far too much for him to grasp. He could remember nothing else. Not the Quidditch game, not Quirrel, not his insane and altogether murderous demand, and of course, not having tried to hex Harry Potter into oblivion.

He did recall the horrid sensation of asphyxiation. That was hard to forget, even for someone under an Imperius Curse, as drowning was one of the most gruesome ways of dying. Perhaps if someone were to jog his memory, and if that person were survivor Hermione Granger, he would be more inclined to remember.

But she was currently hiding behind an enormous book. She was sitting on a stool next to his bed, muttering to herself as she read.

_Typical_, Oliver thought almost as a reflex.

Only then did he realize he was in the Infirmary and she was…visiting him?

"Of, course! How could I have missed that?"she suddenly asked no one in particular and tapped the spine with her fingers angrily.

"I might have to ask some professors, but I will have to be subtle about it," she added quietly.

"It's too bad that isn't really your forte…"Oliver half-spoke, half-whimpered, as he tried lifting himself on one elbow.

Hermione almost fell out of her stool as she dropped her books and lunged towards him with the strength of a small gale.

"Oliver, you're awake!"

She was about to pull him into a hug, but he shied away in discomfort, not knowing why he was suddenly being rewarded with a handful of her bushy hair.

"Sorry..."Hermione said, coughing embarrassed. "I'm just happy you're finally awake so I can thank you properly."

Oliver raised an eyebrow alarmed. Had he won the game? Was she thanking him for that? No, she didn't think much of Quidditch, she couldn't possibly mean that.

Hang on. He was in the Infirmary.

"What happened?" he asked hastily. "I can't remember anything. Bloody hell, I can't remember anything!"

Hermione quickly passed him a glass of water.

"Relax, you've been cursed with an Unforgivable that was charmed with an Obliviation spell. Or at least this is what volume no. 5 tells me. Still, whoever cast the Unforgivable is going straight to Azkaban, Obliviation spell or no Obliviation spell."

Oliver gulped down the water shakily but after three swallows, he instantly spat it all over himself.

"This is not water!"

"Well, yes, but it's the next best thing. Madam Pomfrey told me to lie to you. She said it would be more effective."

"And of course you listened to her."

"I had to drink the same concoction."

Oliver frowned and looked her up and down. "You don't look sick or anything."

"Why thank you, I believe this is the closest you've ever come to a compliment," she replied tongue-in-cheek.

"Now's not the time for witty remarks, Granger. I've lost my bloody memory!"

"Would you calm down? You've hardly lost your memory. You wouldn't even be able to speak properly if that were so. It's still intact, but some parts are clouded," she explained naturally.

"Clouded? Clouded? I can't even remember why I'm here! Why…why am I here? What happened? Granger, you have to tell me everything."

"Um, the Headmaster strongly advises you should be allowed to rest before –" she began, citing obediently.

"I don't give a damn about the Headmaster's advice right now. Tell me who cast an Unforgivable on me," he spoke adamantly.

"Honestly, Oliver, have you been listening to me? If we knew who'd cast it, do you think we'd waste time waiting for you to wake up? We're hoping _you_ might clue us in on that."

"Me? I – I can't, I don't remember anything," he said, covering his eyes with his hand in fear. Why couldn't he just see the events flash before him like a roll of film as he usually did, why was everything blocked, where had it gone to? What was this pain in the back of his head?

"I'm trying to remember, but it's…it's blank, bloody hell, it's like a void," he said, staring ahead in horror.

Hermione, who had kept her composure so far, began to waver. She did not like the look in his eyes.

She shook him lightly.

"Oliver, you're scaring me. Don't speak like that. We will fix this. Madam Pomfrey –"

"Madam Pomfrey can't magically grow back my memories," he retorted bitterly.

Hermione sighed. He had a point and even a know-it-all like her couldn't add anything to the situation or even remotely appease him.

"Once we find out what happened and who cursed you, we'll be able to trace back the events and…you'll know. You'll fill that void," she said at length.

Oliver shook his head, appearing to be greatly skeptical at the possibility. He was no use to their search, not until something resurfaced from the dark pool that was his mind at the moment and he was quite sure it would take some time.

And when had this taken place? Before or after the game? Maybe there had been witnesses, after all, this was Hogwarts; you could hardly find a place to be alone, especially during the day time…

"I remember having breakfast with the twins, you came up to me to wish me luck and then I went off to check the equipment and get ready for the game. But I don't remember leaving the castle, or walking towards the stadium. I just – it's like I dropped everything and went to sleep it off in the common room…"

"No, you did leave the castle and the other professors gathered that you were cursed before the game," Hermione told him, feeling the burden of having to reveal what was coming.

That is when Oliver himself realized that in his confusion and general disarray, he had forgotten to ask the most vital question.

Why?

Why would someone curse him?

"The Imperius curse is supposed to make you obey the will of the wizard who cast it, isn't it?" he asked, his voice hollow and devoid of emotion. His face had gone completely white.

Hermione nodded her head in sadness. She felt the tight knot right in her throat.

"We don't know who did it, but we know why, Oliver," she said gravely. "You…you were Imperiused to …m-murder Harry."

Oliver had never heard Hermione stammer before. It was rather comical that his first reaction was to dwell on that aspect. But it was sheer shock that was making him ignore everything else. Because it couldn't be true.

"No," he barred, weakly. "No. It can't be. No."

"I'm so sorry, Oliver. I…know this can't be easy. But if it helps in any way, Harry is safe and sound. You…weren't successful, thankfully."

Oliver felt a gurgle of laughter in his throat. Oh, of course that should comfort him. It had only been an unconsciously premeditated attempt, he wasn't a _real_ criminal.

He buried his head in his hands.

He did feel relief in knowing Harry was alive, but everything else burned him with shame and guilt.

"Oliver, this wasn't your fault. You couldn't help it. No one – no wizard alive, not even the strongest – can fight against the Imperius curse, especially when it is coupled with other powerful charms. It _wasn't_ your fault."

"That still doesn't change the fact that I was close to killing a First Year."

"I know this changes everything, but Harry and everyone else know you'd never –"

"I don't care about that! Who cares about that! I care that I almost killed Harry Potter!" he yelled in exasperation.

Hermione shifted slightly in her seat.

"How did I – how did it happen anyways?" Oliver asked, feeling nauseous.

Hermione recounted to him the events of the game up to the part where she had broken Oliver's curse.

A new wave of shock struck him, but this time it was awe.

"You…you and I…is that why I remember the feeling of drowning, of asphyxiation? Because you broke the curse while I was in the water?"

"Yes. It couldn't be helped."

"But…you jumped into the water to save Harry? Just like that? Not caring what would happen to you?"

"I jumped for the both of you. I don't have many friends. I wouldn't want to lose any."

Oliver was going to remark how she had included him in that category by extension, but he was in no mood to start an argument.

"That's…that's really impressive. I didn't know you had it in you, Granger. I – thanks, for jumping in and for breaking the curse, really, I…"

"No, I should be the one doing the thanking," she said waving her hand dismissively.

Oliver frowned. "After what you've told me, how could you possibly thank me? I was the reason you were all in danger."

"Well, believe it or not, midway through gaining your will and conscience and dying of asphyxiation, you managed to do some good. An octopus had caught my leg and you stayed under to try and set me free. You didn't abandon me. In fact, you…you were ready to die."

Oliver opened his mouth in shock.

"So you see, the person who did all of that couldn't possibly be blamed for what happened. You couldn't possibly hurt Harry and save me at the same time."

"But…but I didn't in the end, did I?"

"Well, we were both saved by the Ravenclaw team, so you have to owe them your begrudging respect and gratitude. But you didn't abandon me, you stuck to the end, even though you could have saved yourself. Of course it was rather foolish of you, but also completely noble."

Oliver couldn't help but smile weakly. Even when she was singing his praise she had to sneak in a snide remark.

"I can't believe I did that."

"Is it low self-esteem or exaggerate modesty? Or are you surprised that you tried to save _me_?" she asked, arching a brow.

"All of those," he blurted out tactlessly. "I mean you're not my favourite person of the day, no offense, Granger. And I only have enough confidence on the field. Anything else is either blind luck or pure instinct. Maybe that's what really kicked in. I just never thought I had it in me."

Hermione only pursed her lips and nodded her head stiffly, but she felt a bit miffed at his careless remarks. After all, she had all but hugged him earlier and had keenly insisted on the goodness of his character, all at the expense of her pride.

The boy standing in front of her had almost died with her, refusing to leave her side, and yet now that they were talking safely in the Infirmary, the old annoyance was slowly settling in again.

It was mild now, seeing as she wasn't going to forget his gesture very soon, but it would grow in time if he kept acting like a broomstick. What kind of boy would say she was not his favourite person in general, but that he had saved her out of some irrational impulse?

"Well, it appears you do. And that's why I wanted to thank you properly," she said, extending her hand in a business-like manner.

He looked at it for some moments.

"It's only a handshake," she commented, rolling her eyes.

Oliver quickly took her hand and shook it lightly.

"No, it's only that it feels strange to shake your hand after everything. But I'm glad I didn't abandon you," he confessed.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Yes. At least I wasn't a coward in the end…" he trailed off, uncertain of what to say.

"Oh, right. Of course not. Well, you probably want to be alone, to have time to think and gather your thoughts," she said, getting up all of a sudden.

She had noticed he was in a feverish state and felt conflicted about trying to kill Harry and save her at the same time, two actions which were hard to reconcile.

He needed his solitude.

"I'll just leave you to it and I'll come back later," she added.

"Wait, why hasn't Madam Pomfrey shown up yet? How come she let you stay so long?" he asked out of nowhere. He didn't really want her to go as he felt her presence slightly reassuring and stalling her seemed the only way not to tell her directly.

"I cast a Silencing Spell around us so she wouldn't disturb," she explained, as if it was the commonest thing in the world.

"Oh. I suppose that's smart. Has anyone else come?"

"Oh, of course, silly. Pretty much the entire Gryffindor team, Harry, Ron, the twins, some professors, the Headmaster, an official from the Ministry and a journalist from The Prophet…oh, there was also Lisa Turpin, she looked particularly worried…"

"All right, I got it," he interrupted her before she listed every single visitor.

"Good, because there will be others. Be prepared."

Oliver rested his back against the pillows and crossed his arms in silent resignation.

"I just want to be alone. I can't face anyone. I can't look them in the eye. Especially Harry. Not after what happened. Please, tell him not to come. I couldn't stand it."

It was odd that she was the only person he _could_ stand right now but he didn't have much choice in the matter.

"Harry wouldn't want you to feel this way. He knows what happened and he would never blame you… but I will tell him not to come," she said, not arguing against him for once. Perhaps she understood that his turmoil was too great at the moment.

Before she could turn and leave, she remembered something.

"The game was obviously cancelled. It's going to be rescheduled to take place next month."

Oliver stared at her confused. "Quidditch is the last thing on my mind right now."

_There's a first_, she thought.

"Yes, I know_ that._ But I also know you'd want to know about it at some point, even if now doesn't seem like such a good time. You'll thank me later."

With that she turned around and vanished through the curtains.

Oliver didn't suppose he could ever begin to thank her enough for breaking the curse. The idea that he would thank her for Quidditch-related news seemed downright absurd in comparison.

He lay down again and turned to the other side.

The guilt he felt could only be diminished if he made a real effort to remember more.

He planned on trying to do that the rest of the afternoon and the entirety of that evening.


End file.
